


(Your Movie Taste Puts Me In A) Grizzly Rage

by xDx



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Friendship, Grizzly Rage, M/M, Movie Night, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:27:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xDx/pseuds/xDx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's pack movie night again, and Stiles wants everyone to know that Derek Hale has the worst taste in movies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Your Movie Taste Puts Me In A) Grizzly Rage

**Author's Note:**

> So, I watched Grizzly Rage for all of the Tyler Hoechlin. I just... can't. So I wrote this while I watched.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr if you like. I'm geekfighter.

"Derek, I swear to God," Stiles groaned, pointing one finger threateningly, "I will never let you choose the movie again."

Derek sniffed derisively. "The two from last week weren't that bad."

"Yes," Stiles muttered angrily, "they totally freaking were. And this looks even worse!" He held up the DVD, gesturing to the cover. Two-thirds was covered with a giant, roaring grizzly bear and the other third had a youthful blonde bimbo and an (admittedly attractive) actor.

"Mom and Dad are fighting again, guys," they heard Erica crow gleefully from the Stilinski living room. A smattering of laughter carried in after her remark.

Derek glared over at Stiles, crossing his arms. Stiles flushed, the blush crawling down his neck slowly.

"Whatever," the teen finally said, throwing his arms up in defeat. "Fine. Let's get this over with." He stalked out of the kitchen, clutching the DVD and popcorn bowl.

Derek made an abortive gesture, reaching out to catch his wrist, but drawing back with an inaudible sigh. He followed shortly, settling down on the couch beside Stiles as the pack lounged comfortably.

Generally, Stiles would be internally rejoicing at their thighs pressed together warmly, but he was feeling particularly vindictive so he resolutely ignored it. Mostly.

The movie cued up, some unrecognizable alt rock song playing alongside jerky camera angles of a car driving. Stiles managed to hold his ("overly critical, my ass") tongue, until the main character showed up.

"They're mumbling all their lines," he said under his breath, sure all the werewolves in the room would hear. Isaac, on the floor, bumped his head into Stiles's knee in what was probably meant to be a shushing motion.

They sat through a road trip montage, Stiles noting that it was roughly two minutes longer than it had any right to be. When the characters started careening through the woods at an obnoxious speed, he resorted to glaring at the side of Derek's movie-watching-concentration face.

"Problem?" the alpha asked, eyebrows hitching up though his eyes stayed fixed on the TV screen. Stiles huffed, turning back to the train wreck of a movie.

When the brutal mauling began, Stiles couldn't hold himself back from giggling helplessly. Luckily Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Scott found it equally as hilarious. Stiles privately thought that Derek didn't laugh only because he was a stubborn ass, but so be it.

"Dude, they just digitally inserted red blood splatter on the camera lens. Tell me you don't find this hysterical," Stiles smirked, elbowing Derek lightly. The older man rolled his eyes but otherwise didn't respond.

The movie continued, Stiles paying less attention to the proceeding as the characters drove around aimlessly. Instead, he focused on the hotness of the main character Wes, trying to pinpoint why he looked sort of familiar. Which is why, suddenly, he exclaimed,

"Oh my God! The hot guy wearing the capri pants kinda looks like Derek!" He snapped his mouth shut quickly, knowing the wolves would hear his embarrassingly fast heart rate anyway.

Scott raised an incredulous eyebrow at his friend, then glanced between the alpha and the TV screen. "Dude, I totally see it. He's like Derek, only less broody." Derek calmly reached his arm behind Stiles to swat at the back of Scott's head.

"Equally as broody," Boyd said without glancing away from the movie. "Which you'd know, if you were paying attention."

At that, Stiles distracted himself from the press of Derek's bicep against his neck and tuned in to find Wes bemoaning his circumstances, ambling around in a daze of shock that Stiles sympathetically found familiar. In fact, as he watched he felt increasingly uncomfortable with how the dialogue was moving along.

'What are we gonna tell his parents?' Stiles's lungs clenched, watching Wes suffer a panic attack on-screen. 'I saw him. Flying through the air. I was so scared.' Stiles exhaled carefully, watched as the scene cut and rolled back to another character. He stood abruptly.

"Hey, anyone want something to drink?" Stiles retreated into the darkened kitchen as the others sat, focused intently (obviously completely aware) on the movie. He braced his hands against the kitchen counter, breathing slowly as his mind swirled with thoughts.

'What if Scott dies? What if the alphas come back for Boyd and Erica? We barely managed to rescue them the first time around. What if Isaac was gone? Jesus fucking Christ, what if my Dad or Derek...'

"Hey," Derek said from beside him, spooking Stiles out of his thoughts abruptly. He realized that his fingers were poised like claws on the countertop, a weak imitation of the power his friends possessed. Stiles could hear dramatic screaming from the living room.

"Sorry," Stiles whispered, quiet enough not to carry to the pack, but enough that he knew Derek would hear him.

"Don't be," Derek told him, moving closer until Stiles could feel the heat from his overwarm werewolf body beside him. He knew it was the wolf comforting him, wished it was more--wished it was enough and that he didn't want so much from the man who he'd become friends with over the past year.

Stiles turned around, leaning back against the counter with a sigh. "I can't believe that stupid movie triggered me like that."

"It is a stupid movie," Derek agreed quietly. "The main character is wearing capri pants. The bald kid did the complete opposite of what he was just told, literally minutes before, to do. The lighting sucks, and the cameras are all shaky."

Stiles stared at him for a moment before bursting out in laughter. He leaned over, resting his head against Derek's shoulder. "Yeah. Thanks. For coming in here, and agreeing that this movie is bullshit."

Derek relaxed into the touch, shifting closer to lean his hip against the counter, as well. Stiles felt him shrug slightly.

"It happened to me sometimes. After the fire," Derek said softly, his breath warm where it brushed over Stiles's shoulder. "I had waking nightmares about that night. Laura never did, she was so strong, but I... I was sixteen when it happened."

Stiles thought about telling him that he was only twelve when his Mom died, but brushed it aside, choosing only to commiserate in the rare comfort of silence. It was interrupted by more, increasingly loud screams.

Stiles couldn't help himself, pulling away to laugh uncontrollably under his breath. He could make out Derek's shoulders shaking, too, and reached out to rest a hand there, connecting them.

Derek paused thoughtfully, the moment stretching between them, before he slid forward easily to wrap an arm around Stiles's waist. The teen's breath caught in his throat, heart speeding up obviously as he waited, frozen.

Derek leaned in smoothly, stilling so close that his lips brushed Stiles's as he spoke. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," Stiles mumbled, pressing forward until their lips met softly. The kiss was slow and gentle, their mouths moving together in dry sweetness. As the teen opened his mouth to deepen it, his meddlesome friends made a timely interruption.

"Stiles, he's taking his clothes off!" Erica yelled from the living room. Stiles pulled away, choking on his laughter as he adjusted to breathing normally again.

"Seriously?" Derek groaned, eyes rolling as he complained. He stepped away, linking their hands and pulling the teen back towards their pack.

"You picked it," Stiles reminded him, grinning wide. "Don't worry, shnookums, I've only got eyes for you." Isaac smiled at them happily as they sunk back onto the couch, pressed close as Derek threw his arm around Stiles once more.

"If High Road isn't better than this, I'm not coming to movie night next week," Boyd informed the room in general before eating a handful of popcorn.

Stiles, knowing Derek's taste, resigned himself to a life of Boyd-less movie nights.

**Author's Note:**

> Tiny fic-related head-canon: the betas inevitably started fist-bumping at every opportunity afterwards and yelling "Los amigos!" It did not help Danny's belief that they all belong to some sort of leather-wearing gang.


End file.
